The Whore with the White Coat, from dKos

“Here comes another whore with a white coat,” I heard as I was stepping out of my car. It sounded like a whisper at first; I thought I might be imagining it, until he said it again. I looked over at the street corner in front of the clinic and saw the Saturday morning abortion protesters gathering. It was only 7:30 am and they were already shouting at passing cars. Billboard sized signs stapled to wooden poles--pictures of bloodied and mangled fetuses, bobbed up and down, and I heard someone shout, “Jesus loves you!”

I looked back at the stray man who had whispered to me. He was crouched near the parking lot waiting for others to arrive for morning clinic. His eyes looked like he was following a ping-pong game, darting back and forth between the other protesters and me. Something was strangely familiar about him, which distracted me enough to trip over the curb, spilling an armload of charts, my computer, and my triple latte on the pavement.

“Shit,” I mumbled, as I started to quickly gather my things.

“Let me help you with that, Sweetheart,” he hissed as he inched closer.